


The Great Escape: East Side: Near the Insectron Stadium

by moody_trans_detective



Series: Rogueass Galaxy [23]
Category: Rogue Galaxy
Genre: Other, Why Did I Write This?, insects?, insex?, monsters fucking monsters, underground insector ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:34:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27914605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moody_trans_detective/pseuds/moody_trans_detective
Summary: Zegram finds an underground insector ring while looking for illegal explosives.
Series: Rogueass Galaxy [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956043
Kudos: 2





	The Great Escape: East Side: Near the Insectron Stadium

Zegram didn’t pay much attention where his feet were taking him. He had to stay away from a particular apartment complex and that was it. Not like he had many memories here that needed avoiding. Just his brief time with Jane, and he pushed those down with a couple swigs of grog. A well-dressed man gave him a look of offense for drinking openly on the street and Zegram sneered at him.

He realized suddenly he was in front of the Instectron Stadium. Damn. He’d been meaning to stop by a shop, grab a few supplies, head to the Galaxy Corporation’s main office. He was here to start shit, after all. Must be the old temptations were coming back to him after having caught a few Insectors back on Juraika.

“Well, now, the old Insectron Stadium,” he muttered to himself, and had another drink in front of the children darting in and out of the building. He’d battled here himself, many years ago. The place’d been kept up well, didn’t even look to have aged. Like stepping back through time, only now he wasn’t supposed to go in.

He had another drink. Hell, he was banned a decade ago. Might as well check out what the place was like these days. Zegram strode in, but didn’t even get to the license vendor before an alarm went off. That was new. Top of the line facial recognition, probably, if it could clock him even with the eyepatch. Zegram ducked back out before the police arrived and slid into a side alley.

“Damn,” he mumbled, and had another long drink, wiped his mouth with the back of a hand. He could still get a fix, if he wanted, by weaving through some of these alleys. There were shady insector rings here, battles where illegal bets were made and the little beasts were often allowed to brutalize or even kill each other. He knew he should turn the hell around and leave, but he also knew he could get explosives for cheap back in this area.

Norma hadn’t specified _how_ he was supposed to get the kid and other pirates thrown in jail, just that it was up to Zegram to do it. He figured an old-fashioned terrorist bombing oughtta to do the trick, particularly with tensions so high what with the war with the Draxilian Empire. It also meant Zegram didn’t have to get too close, just set the damn thing and then spread the rumor Jaster and the others had been seen placing it.

He put his grog flask back and strode into one of Zerard’s many dark underbellies. Here smoke got caught between the tall buildings, griming up the once-shiny metal siding and windows. Zegram inhaled deep, taking in the different brands and flavors. Zerard had the very best of anything you could dream of smoking, from rare plants to engineered shit. Smoking had never been his particular vice, but he appreciated it anyway.

He lingered at a particularly popular battle arena, choosing it for the anonymity being one in a crowd of a couple hundred gave. The place was in the basement of a building, crammed with smokers and drinkers and other users, people clutching their insector cages or their zehn. Zegram pushed forward through the masses to one of three battle tables, the main one, where the most experienced played to win.

A match was just ending. The winner, a man with a springtail of all things, crossed his arms and leaned back as a guy about Zegram’s age pulled out a cage. Zegram watched intently. The springtail wasn’t a particularly strong insector, but it could hypnotize opponents, which could give it the edge to then dart in and attack. Zegram wouldn’t’ve brought a springtail to a serious match, but then the guy was winning.

Out came the challenger insector, the biggest damn tarantulord Zegram had ever seen. Something stirred in him. Normally silkspiders were built sturdy, but this one was a masterpiece. He licked his lips. The bug-dick on that thing was bound to be a wonder. If it was his he’d be breeding the beast, charging out the ass for the hatchlings. But no, that was behind him now, he had a job as a pirate and a side job as a pirate betrayer; he didn’t need more shit to do.

“It’ll be a close one,” said the person next to him.

“Huh? That tarantulord’ll make short work of any springtail.”

“You haven’t seen what it’s been doing to the other insectors, buddy.”

Zegram couldn’t believe this guy. Must be his first day someplace like this. Zegram just had a sense for these sorts of things. He could read an insector, judge its abilities, damned well. He coulda retorted, started somethin’, but he was trying to keep a low profile. He’d soon be proven right.

The judge called the beginning, and the insectors set off across the table.

“Tarantulord’s off to a slow start,” called the announcer into the crowd. “The champion Springtail’s across to ‘im an’ he’s only a quarter of the way over the table. Springtail’s attempting to mesmerize Tarantulord. This may be another quick match.”

Zegram thought about placing a bet, but he didn’t wanna give up his spot to do it. He was just passing through here anyway.

“…and Tarantulord’s confused, stumbling around. Springtail’s coming in for an aerial attack.”

“Fuck yeah,” said the current winner.

The guy who owned the tarantulord sat back, stretched out casually. He was cool, smug.

“Shake it off,” he said to the tarantulord.

The tarantulord seemed to try, but took a few hits from the springtail. Zegram grew grouchy. He didn’t like being wrong about this sort of thing.

“And Springtail’s gotten the first few blows in. He’s coming back around to do a little more damage to—oh, looks like Tarantulord’s just got free of the hypnosis, what a twist! And he’s angling toward Springtail, and he’s shooting web.”

The crowd shuffled closer in haphazard, sharp motions.

“Springtail can’t react fast enough. And it’s web to the face! The flyer is down!”

People began shouting. Zegram shot a smug look at the guy who told him the springtail’d win. He was gaping at the springtail as it crashed down to the table.

“Dodge, you were supposed to dodge,” said the springtail owner, leaning forward now. He didn’t even look distressed his zippy little flying insector couldn’t avoid the attack—he looked truly surprised. Zegram doubted the seriousness of a man like that. Clearly he didn’t get insectors.

“Tarantulord’s circling around our downed winner, but Springtail’s not going to give up so easy. He’s going for hypnosis again. Can he manage it with his face half covered in web shot?”

“No, fly first, fly, you piece of shit!” The springtail owner pounded his fists against his knees. If he touched the table it’d be a penalty.

“No luck there! He’s trying to lift off, but Tarantulord is on him. Look at that insector go! Fancy bit of webwork from Tarantulord.”

The springtail fluttered its wings, but the tarantulord shot web at the left side set and they stuck together. Zegram considered this match good as over, but here on the illegal insector tables, refs usually didn’t call it until the champion beast grew bored with beating on the loser. Sometimes that was immediately. Sometimes the winner was damn aggressive, hopped up on some shit or just bred that way. The way the tarantulord stalked, Zegram expected brutality. He was not disappointed.

“Shit,” moaned the springtail’s owner as he watched.

“Unsurprisingly,” said the announcer as the tarantulord shot more sticky silk on the springtail, “the match is over in no time flat. Surprisingly, Springtail is no longer the victor. Tarantulord has defeated the champion of eighteen consecutive matches and it looks like the insector is going to enjoy the triumph! He’s already gotten down to humiliating Springtail with a few more shots of silk. What’s up next? Tarantulord seems to be gearing up to knock the loser around.”

“That’s not what,” muttered Zegram, then shut the hell up. He pulled out his flask and had a gulp of Pirate’s Grog, not wanting to be the guy who knew what it looked like when a silkspider was revving itself up to fuck. Yeah, it wasn’t the classic way they teach you in _How to Breed the Little Beasts: Insector Pairing 101_ , but Zegram had seen it a time or two. The tarantulord was running low to the table rather than bobbing his ass in the air, which usually was interpreted as an aggressive display. Sometimes it was. Wasn’t gonna be now.

“What’s this? Tarantulord’s taking a peculiar stance over Springtail. Maybe to—oh, it is going to be a _spectacle_ of a defeat! Tarantulord’s showing off his giant dick now, and he’s not ashamed.”

Nor should he be. It was big, even for a stoutly-built silkspider. All the more reason Zegram would’ve bred this insector. He could feel himself getting hard at the bastard, at what Zegram knew was coming next. So this shouldn’t turn him on, shouldn’t spike his pulse or excite him, but he never much liked shoulds.

“For those of you who are unaware,” the announcer said eagerly, “springtails are delicately built with long, slender dicks for breeding. Silkspiders have some of the girthiest dicks of any insectors, and Tarantulord’s is nearly twice as long as usual, too. I hope Springtail’s braced for a rough defeat!”

The springtail struggled. Of course it would. The silk held. The tarantulord lined up, rubbed his little beastdick against the springtail’s rear, and then, in a move of sheer cruelty, grabbed a fluttering wing in two legs and ripped it off. The springtail let out a sharp noise of pain, body jolting up, and that was when the tarantulord forced his beastcock in.

Zegram was completely hard now and standing awkwardly to try to conceal it, but he couldn’t look away. The springtail struggled harder at the pounding, the torn off wing twitching nearby on the table as though still attached. The remaining wing buzzed furiously, futilely. The springtail’s owner glared as people began to snort and laugh. The tarantulord was not letting up his pounding.

“In a display of dominance Tarantulord’s _ripped_ Springtail’s wing off! There goes any chance of getting back in the game for our sore loser—and I do mean sore! Springtail’s been taking this giant insector cock for a solid three minutes now and Tarantulord’s shown no evidence of slowing down. You can’t find this in your breeder books!”

Zegram had the sudden thought he and Jane’d make such a book at some point, if…He gritted his teeth and focused on the show, on not letting his cock give him away.

“I am impressed. Tarantulord’s kept this up for five minutes now and Springtail’s gone limp. Looks like the fight’s been fucked right outta him! What’s this? Tarantulord’s going for the next free wing. He’s ripped that one off too! Springtail’s putting up a struggle again.”

The sound of high-pitched insector shrieking and mandibles cracking was audible. Zegram was impressed, was leaking now. The way his clothes rubbed against his cock he feared going off watching. He oughtta be ashamed to be so damned turned on by an insector tearing up and raping another, but it was the raw sexual energy that did it for him, it was any sort of beast fucking. Looked like the tarantulord preferred his victim struggling. Damn, Zegram’s cock was so hard and sensitive.

“How much more will Springtail have to take? If you’re missing out on this show, we are taking footage,” said the announcer for the people at the back. “What’s this? Tarantulord’s grabbed Springtail’s head now and the insector is really pulling up a fight.”

“Come the fuck _on_ ,” said the springtail’s owner while the tarantulord’s whooped.

The springtail knew what was coming. The tarantulord had stopped pummeling for a moment, holding the springtail’s head in several arms and letting the insector thrash furiously against his dick. Too bound by silk and impaled to escape, the springtail was only making the entire event more enjoyable for the tarantulord. And then, with a twist, the tarantulord popped the springtail’s head off his body.

“And with a decapitation, it’s over,” said the announcer. Several people in the crowd laughed. “Or is it? Tarantulord is still fucking Springtail’s headless corpse! What a sight!”

“Call it already,” someone said from the crowd.

“It’s not over until the insector’s finished!” cried someone else.

Zegram hoped they’d let the little beast finish. The tarantulord had renewed vigor, fucking the still twitching body of the springtail while the decapitated head gazed on. Zegram imagined the springtail was letting loose too, spilling his little beastdick in a death fit. The tarantulord’s pounding stopped; the insector pulled out. The springtail’s corpse still gave the odd jerk, but his body was losing the last sparks of life now.

“Aaaaand Tarantulord is done,” said the announcer. Noise broke out. “What a match! Who has the insector to beat this little beast?”

Zegram backed away. He needed to find someplace to take care of himself before his clothes rubbed it out of him. The bathroom was in the back, filthy, stalls with no doors, but he’d be quick. He passed a person pissing and went for the end stall, put his back to the rest of the room, whipped out his cock. He gave himself a few solid strokes, so close he shot a load into the toilet in under a minute. That tarantulord…almost made Zegram consider taking up insector breeding again, the other shit he had going on be damned. Beautiful beast, amazing appetite…

Huh? What was he even here for? Right, cheap explosives. Zegram righted his clothes, flipped the hair out of his eyepatch. No more distractions. He had a job to do.


End file.
